Any dream will do

I don't know when I stopped thinking of you

and of French windows overlooking the sea

and white curtains fluttering in the breeze

and an imperfect terracotta vase

on a corner slab on the red wall

and the flutes on the centre table

with the last dregs

of an evening lived,

but every now and then,

forgotten words

and faded dreams

hum and dance together

in a careless cadence

to stir up memories

of an unseen yesterday

that I can't seem to remember

but don't want to forget.